


How It Works

by andthewhales



Category: The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Daddy Kink, Daddy/boy - Freeform, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Panic Attacks, poorly planned bdsm scenes, the boys learn how to properly discuss kink neogtiation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthewhales/pseuds/andthewhales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Shane have been friends since they were ten years old. They’ve survived school together, shared secret crushes, fought, hated each other, loved each other, kissed, and fucked. And they both found the kink scene together, long before Rick met Daryl.<br/>So, Shane is well aware of the nature of his best friend’s relationship with the redneck when he asks to join them. But he isn't aware of the catastrophe that will follow when he tries to change that relationship.</p>
<p>Update: chapters are being changed and moved around to better suit the long-term plot. Forgive my disorganized mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rick feels immediately hesitant when Shane suggests isolating Daryl during their scene. Shane has always loved to play things rough and mean. He likes to tease and make his partners squirm a little. And while Rick has loved to keep Daryl on edge in the past, he’s not sure that this is the right thing for them. He’s never ignored his baby boy during play before.

“It’ll be so good,” Shane insists, a hand tight on Rick’s waist and his voice a sultry whisper against the shell of Rick’s ear, making him shudder with pleasure. “Nothing’s better than a desperate, needy sub. We just gotta make him wait for a bit.”

Daryl is naked before them, and both men have their shirts off. Rick's already hard in his pants from cuddling the baby boy beforehand, and from a healthy make-out session with both of his partners. The feel of Shane's naked chest pressed against his back feels so good, and it's been so long since he's had the chance to feel his best friend move against him. Rick wants so badly for tonight to be good for all of them. So he nods his agreement and they wait. And they watch. After a few moments Daryl pulls at his bonds, testing them. Rick can see his shoulders tense minutely. His baby boy calls out to him, but before he can respond, Shane’s got a hand over his mouth and he’s muttering to stay still, keep quiet. The heat from the larger man’s body is seeping into his own and he can’t deny the rush of anticipation he feels being kept here, waiting.

Daryl calls out for him again, then a third time. And then all hell breaks loose.

Daryl begins to thrash and cry, his motions and pleas desperate in a way Rick has never heard before. Fear freezes it’s way down Rick’s spine and he throws off Shane’s grip, rushing to his baby boy’s side. He desperately tries to gentle his voice as he shushes the boy, rubbing his hands up and down his boy's sides. But Daryl continues to whimper and struggle against his bonds. Rick turns and shouts hoarsely for Shane to get the goddamn key to the handcuffs. As the other man approaches he catches sight of blood on the handcuffs and swears under his breath. Daryl has already torn the skin around his wrists in the struggle and Rick feels sick at the sight. 

As soon as he's free Daryl tears himself from Rick’s grasp and bolts for the door, keeping himself as far from Shane as possible as he runs. Rick is immediately on him, terrified of what will happen if Daryl makes it out the door in this state. As soon as his hand lands on Daryl’s back the younger man jerks away from his touch and backpedals until he hits a wall. His hands come up to tangle in his hair as he hides his face and tries to get his breathing under control.

"Fuck," Rick mutters. "Fuck!"

Behind him Shane is still holding the keys and the handcuffs in shaking hands.

"Rick, man, I'm sorry," he starts out, keeping his voice as low as he can, "I didn't know it was gonna go down like that."

"It's not your fault. I, we've never..." Rick stutters and sighs. "I need you to leave, Shane. I'm sorry. We'll...I'll call you later, alright? But you can't be here right now."

"Okay, I got it." Shane tugs his shirt on quickly and quietly, disappearing through the door without a single glance back, and leaving Rick alone to deal with the crying, shaking mess that was his baby boy. He seats himself in front of Daryl, far enough away that he can't reach out and touch the other man, but close enough that he can be seen, should Daryl choose to look.

"Daryl-"

"You left me."

It feels like he's been stabbed through the heart. "No, sweetheart, I didn't leave. But I tricked you into thinking that I did, and that's so much worse."

"Y-you never said you were gonna do that. I didn't want you to do that!" comes the reply, his tone raw with distress and frustration. Rick can tell from the way he's talking that Daryl's fighting against his own head, warring between staying little and coming back up into his big mentality. One shaky hand releases its death grip on his hair, moving down to his mouth where teeth begin worrying at the skin of his thumb. His eyes remain downcast, avoiding.

"I know, love. I made a mistake. And I can't take it back, but I am so, so sorry." He does his best to keep his voice steady throughout the apology, but in the back of his mind doubt and shame and fear are needling at him, fuck fuck fuck, he'll leave you for this, you hurt him and you lied to him and he'll leave you behind. "I know you wanna get out of here, but I can't let you leave until I know you're alright, okay? You gotta tell me what you need right now, if you can."

Finally, Daryl's gaze lifts up off the floor and travels to Rick. The older man can still see fear in his eyes, and uncertainty, as he considers Rick's words. When he speaks, his voices is small and muffled by the thumb still pressed to his lips.

"Up, please?"

"What?" Rick asks, startled by the request. Daryl flinches from the word, looks away and curls up more tightly against the wall, while Rick silently curses himself for his hesitation.

"Okay, okay," he amends immediately, "That's fine, sweetheart, if you're sure?"

A hesitant nod is all he needs to spur him into motion, crossing the distance between them and helping the baby boy to clamber up into his lap. Daryl is still trembling when he settles into place, but his fingers clutch at Rick's shirt. He rests his head against Rick's shoulder and sighs heavily, as though he’s trying to flush all the stress from his system in that single breath. Rick wraps his arms around him, holding him as close as he possibly can without crushing him, and kisses the top of his head.

"Where are you at right now, sweetheart?" The endearment was one they used regardless of Daryl's age. It was safe ground for now, until Daryl could establish what he needed from Rick.

"Dunno."

"You wanna stay little for a while, until you calm down?"

Daryl nods against his chest and they settle into a tense silence. The thumb returns to Daryl’s mouth and with how hard he’s chewing on it Rick knows they'll probably have to bandage it later, along with his wrists. He trails his fingers just below the angry red marks left by the restraints.

"God, Daryl, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Daryl makes a distressed noise around his thumb. “I was bad?”

“No! No, baby. You weren’t bad.” Rick insists, hugging the boy closer and kissing his forehead. “I wasn’t trying to punish you, Daryl. Shane, he…he didn’t know how we are, baby. He thought it would be fun because he knows other people who like that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “They just do. The same way you and I like to cuddle. It’s just how we are.”

Daryl’s still got his thumb in his mouth, but he’s sucking instead of biting. Rick sighs deeply and kisses his head once more.

“We won’t ever do that again, Daryl. I swear. I will never leave you like that again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night and morning after the failed scene.

That night, Daryl quietly asks if he can sleep alone in the guest bedroom. Rick’s heart aches even deeper at the realization that Daryl couldn’t even feel safe enough to do so without asking permission first. His boy has always been hesitant and careful, but they’d finally come to a place where he felt comfortable with Rick. And that trust had been wrecked. So, of course he agrees. He holds back his own flood of emotions, guilt and sadness and god, even anger at Shane. He gingerly pulls his boy into a tight embrace before they part ways for the night. He doesn’t apologize again, knowing that any further begging and grovelling will just stress them both further.

As he climbs into his own bed alone for the first time in almost a year, he knows it will be a long night. He doesn’t sleep at all.

Instead, he thinks back on the scene, on the moments before, on all the things they should have discussed differently. He had made too many assumptions about what they all wanted, he’d indulged Shane too much and Daryl not enough. Had he even told Daryl that Shane could get rough? Why hadn’t he set up better parameters? Why hadn’t he answered Daryl the first time he called for him?

He couldn’t get the sight of Daryl’s injured wrists out of his head. He hoped that Daryl was faring better than him.

When he hears commotion in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, he groggily rises to investigate. He finds Daryl waiting for him with a travel mug of coffee in one hand and a packed duffel bag in the other. Rick chokes off a sob, and Daryl reacts immediately. He skitters across the linoleum floor and into Rick’s arms, curling against him, although he shivers while he does so.

“Please,” Rick begs desperately grasping at his baby’s shirt, “Please, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t leave. God, please don't’ leave.”

“Ain’t leaving,” Daryl promises hurriedly “Rick, I swear I ain’t leaving. Just going hunting. I gotta...I’ll come back. Tomorrow, maybe day after. But I gotta.”

Rick could hear the tension in his voice, the sadness. Guilt floods through him again, filling him up until he feels like he’s drowning. He doesn’t want to let the man leave, doesn’t want to say yes. But he knows Daryl won’t go without permission. And if there’s any place Daryl can find himself, it’s in nature, alone. Rick hastily nods, his face rubbing against the hunter’s shoulder.

“Okay,” he manages, “Okay. Just come back. Please come back. I love you, Daryl.”

“Will, I swear.”

Daryl pulls away suddenly, and they both wipe at their eyes. Before he leaves, Rick asks him if he’s called in to work to let his boss know he’ll be gone for a couple days. His heart flutters at the small affectionate smile his baby gives him for his consideration. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to give him hope that he can fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another too-short chapter after a too-long hiatus. One day I'll post long updates on a regular basis. But it is not this day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day, with some soul-searching, an unhealthy dose of guilt and angst for everyone, and some necessary conversations.

Rick has the day off. Normally he felt loose and lazy the day after a scene, so much so that he couldn’t keep his focus on his work. He’d gotten into the habit of always requesting off for the day after they had a big scene planned. Daryl often did the same and the two of them would spend their free time sleeping, cuddling or gently fucking on and off for hours.

Today, though, he’d give almost anything for the distractions of the work place.

Shane, he knows, has no such hangups after a scene. He was scheduled for a patrol shift bright and early that morning. Rick has pulled his phone out half a dozen times between Daryl’s departure and the start of Shane's shift, debating shooting off a text or even calling his friend. He knew they would all have to talk about what happened. But he didn’t know what to say, or even how to say it.

And what would Shane say back? Was he as distraught and worked up as Rick and Daryl? He wasn’t their lover, and he had no emotional investments in Daryl, at least not yet, Hell, Shane barely had emotional attachments to anyone besides Rick. But they were brothers, closer than blood. And Rick knows he saw fear in Shane’s eyes last night. Maybe he couldn’t help Daryl just yet, but at least he could check in on Shane. He sends off a quick text asking the other man to call him on his break. Only a few minutes later his phone rings, the screen flashing a charming photo of Shane laughing and flipping off the camera. He answers immediately.

“Hey, Shane.”

“Hey, brother.” Shane sounds tired, muted. He's way to quiet for someone who has normally ingested about four cups of coffee by this time of day. “What’s going on?”

“Daryl left,” Rick blurts, although he quickly corrects himself. “Not, not for good. Just hunting. But he’s gone.”

Shane swears into the phone. “Rick, man, I am sorry. This is all on me. You know I always go too hard.”

“No. Hey, no. I should have told you. I should have told HIM. I messed this all up. But I’m gonna fix it. I am. I just...look, do you want to come over after work?”

“I can come over now. I called in sick.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, man. I haven’t felt this shitty since I got blackout drunk at Maggie's party senior year. Didn't even know I COULD feel this bad without being wasted.”

“Come over, then.” Rick pleads. He’s familiar with top drop, this is something he can handle. “I can fix it. Let me fix it.”

“You don’t gotta fix everything. But yeah, I’ll come over. Just give me a few.”

Rick has a batch of cookies in the oven by the time Shane walks through the front door. He hears the man laugh while he kicks off his shoes. Likely he’s smelled the cookies baking and knows exactly what Rick is up to. 

“As much as I love your apology cookies, there is really no need.”

Rick disagrees very strongly, but before he can voice a protest he’s got a face full of Shane’s chest as he’s pulled into a tight hug. Rick melts into the embrace immediately and Shane makes soft shushing sounds while gently rubbing his hand up and down the smaller man’s back.

“You’re tense. You get any sleep last night?”

Rick shakes his head, burrowing further into the warm body and strong arms. He feels weak. There are cookies baking in the oven with the timer ticking down, there's still dough in the bowl on the counter, Daryl is gone, the sink is full of dirty dishes, Daryl is gone, he hasn’t made any coffee for Shane yet, Daryl is gone, Daryl is gone, Daryl is gone…

“Easy, Ricky, take it easy. I’ve got you.”

“You shouldn't,’” he croaks, and when had he started crying? He was so pathetic. He WAS weak. Shane was here, he had called out from work. Rick had to take care of Shane, he needed to-

“Ricky. Rick, you gotta breathe. Do that shit the therapist taught you. Deep, slow breaths.”

Rick gasps, struggling to take in air as he forces his mind to focus on what he can feel. He starts with his toes, the soft material of his socks and the coldness of the floor creeping into the soles of his feet. One deep breath. Then his ankles, where the little hairs always got rubbed the wrong way by the elastic in his socks. Another breath. Next, his calves where he can’t feel much of anything because he’s still in just his boxers and a t-shirt. Then his knees, his thighs, his hips, and up and up and up. Slow breaths the whole way, and Shane holding him tight. Everywhere Shane touches him is warm and calm,. He can feel it seeping into him as he works to push the stress and anxiety from his body bit by bit. He realizes that the bigger man is still talking to him.

“-and what’s the other thing she tells you to do? With the journals? I can go get you your journal, or we can go buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a hundred journals and you can write down all your feelings or whatever shit you’re supposed to do with them. Or we can just keep hugging it out, man. Whatever you need. Hell, I’ll even go with you to one of those yoga meditation granola things, if I have to.”

Rick snorts and that. He takes one last big breath and lets it out, nuzzling harder into Shane.

“Didn’t know you had it in you to be a service top.”

“Fuck you, I’m a leather dom all the way.”

“You could be both, you know.”

“Yeah,” Shane sighs, tired and contemplative, “maybe I could be. Don’t know. This shit never used to be so complicated. Before Daryl, it was so easy.”

“It’s not his fault,” Rick scolds defensively, “This isn’t on him.”

“It’s not on you, either. It’s just that, well, three is a whole lot bigger than two. Bigger than any of us realized.”

“He just doesn’t know you yet. And you don’t know him.”

“And you got caught in the middle.”

“Guess I did.” The timer goes off for the cookies, prompting the two men to disentangle themselves from one another. Rick steps away to busy himself with the oven. When he turns around to set the hot tray down, he catches Shane scooping raw cookie dough out of the bowl with his fingers, a shit-eating, unrepentant grin on his face.  
Rick knows better than to try and tell him off; if history is any indicator they would only end up in a food fight. Instead he merely rolls his eyes and fishes a spoon out of the silverware drawer and hands it over.

Next, Rick makes coffee and Shane digs through the refrigerator for more appropriate breakfast foods. Together they manage a meal of eggs and toast. It leaves Rick feeling like a little bit less of a wreck. He feels capable of handling what inevitably must come next. Once they’ve put away the dishes and retired to the living room, he breaks the bad news to his companion.

“We have to talk.”

Shane is sitting upright at one end of the couch. Rick lays sprawled out across the rest of it, his head in Shane’s lap and his feet dangling off the far armrest. They’re both facing outwards, staring at the blank television screen and the odd mismatch of art hanging above it. Rick had never gotten the hang of good home decor.

“Yeah. I figured you were gonna say that. Was kind of hoping you wouldn't, though.”

Rick smiles to himself. Shane has always hated talking things out. He values action and privacy over any sort of vulnerability or transparency. Rick had been like that, too, once. When he was younger. But his therapist, Michonne, had worked hard to train him out of that habit. And he thought he’d been doing well until now. But he had obviously relapsed while making plans to invite Shane into his sex life with Daryl. His failure to properly communicate was going to ruin another relationship for him.

Not true, says a little voice in his head, which sounds an awful lot like Michonne. There was still a chance to save things, to work everything out. He could only do his best, now, to communicate with both of the men he loved, and make sure things didn’t get any worse. It didn’t have to end the way it ended with Lori.

Rick feels Shane wiggle a bit beneath him, trying to capture his attention. He turns onto his back to look up at the other man.

“You wandered off again. Where'd you go?”

“Back to Lori, “Rick admits with full honesty. It still burns his heart to even say her name out loud. Shane must see the hurt in his eyes, because he makes a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat and slides his fingers into Rick’s hair.

“Relax, Ricky. This ain’t nothing like it was with her. Maybe I don’t know Daryl very well, but I’ve seen how he looks at you. He LOVES you. Lori never looked at you like he does.”

“I know.” Shane raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him, so he insists, “ I do. I know it’s gonna work out, one way or another. Because we’re gonna talk and make it work.”

“You good to do all this discussing right now?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” He pauses to get his thought in order “First, there's some stuff I have to tell you. I can’t say all of it, because it’s really not my place, but it’s something you should have known before we tried anything.”

“Just spit it out,” Shane prods, though not unkindly.

“Daryl was abused as a child. Badly. I won’t say anything more than that, but you need to know that it really affects how we are together. When we ageplay, he isn’t a brat. He's not looking for a firm hand or any sort of twisted incest play. We never get rough. Ever. He’s just a scared, shy little boy learning what it means to have someone treat him gently.”

Shane is quiet for a long time, his face blank. When he finally does speak, it’s with a heavy, frustrated sigh. “Jesus, Rick. That would have been really good to know.”

“I know,” Rick winces.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He asked me not to. He was afraid that telling you would make you back out. That you’d be turned off by it.”

“I wouldn't have. You know that!” Shane is tense now, his face distraught and his jaw tight. Rick grabs for his hand, the one not in his hair, and intertwines their fingers.

“I told him that, but he insisted. And I didn’t push. I think...I think that on some level I just expected you to know. You've always known everything when it comes to us. I expected you to pick up on it. Which wasn’t fair to either of you. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I get it, Ricky. I do.” Shane’s hand in his hair tightens ever so slightly, not as a reprimand but as a comfort. It’s controlling and familiar, protective in its own way. It’s something Rick hasn’t felt in a long time.

“But,” Shane presses, “Knowing that now, I can see why your boy panicked. I must have fucking traumatized him.”

“Not just you. I was there, too. I let it happen.”

Shane rolls his head back to rest on the couch cushion. Rick watches the long column of his throat bob as he swallows, then groans.

“We’re not gonna be able to fix andy of this without him here. Gonna have to wait until he comes back.”

“Mhmm,” Rick hum, although he’s hardly pleased with that verdict. He doesn’t want to wait any longer in this emotional limbo.

“You want me here when he comes home? I can ask for a few more days off work.”

“No, better not. He might feel trapped if we’re both here waiting for him.”

Shane grunts his agreement. “We done talking then?”

“Hardly,” Rick snorts, “but we can take a break. I know ten whole minutes of heart-to-heart must have been really draining for you.”

“Damn right. Was the most difficult ten minutes of my whole life. Got any idea how I might relieve myself of all this stress I got now?”

Rick can feel a bulge growing in Shane’s pants just beneath his head. It would be so easy to slip into their old dynamic, to turn his face onto Shane’s crotch and mouth at the hardening member he knows almost as well as he knows his own. He imagines fitting his mouth over Shane’s cock, being choked by it, filled by it. He wants, but he knows he can’t do that. Not now.

“That might be a part of the things we have left to discuss. I would love to let you fuck me boneless right now, but I can’t do that without talking to Daryl first.”

Shane frowns down at him. “Thought he gave you a free pass when it comes to me?”

“He did, but that was before last night. We’re all on a clean slate now. Back to square one. We’re going to have to renegotiate everything.”

“Damn.”

“I know,” Rick says sympathetically. He sits up, dislodging Shane's hand from his head. Studiously ignoring the dramatic groan and the way Shane very obviously adjusts himself, he rises from the couch.

“If you want, you can use the bedroom and get yourself off.”

“Nah, the bathroom will work just fine. I’ll be back in a few.”

“I promise not to time you.”

Shane stays for most of the day. Rick cleans because he really can’t help himself. And he makes more food; snacks for Shane throughout the afternoon and Daryl’s favorite dessert, a sort of strawberry shortcake made with biscuits, to eat when Daryl came home. He wonders briefly if Daryl will think he’s trying to bribe him with the sweets, but he quickly shuts down that worrying train of thought. Daryl is an adult, even if he’s also Rick’s baby boy, and he’s smart enough to know that Rick would never use such cheap tricks on him.

Shane, for his part, tries to help with the cleaning of the house but ends up being more of a nuisance than anything. Which is hardly surprising, he’s always been a disorganized mess; in fact, the two of them had tried living together in college but had barely survived a month before Rick was ready to kill the other man for living like an animal.

So it isn’t long before Rick banishes Shane to the couch, where the taller man idly flips through the channels and keeps up a running dialogue of inconsequential topics. It passes the time easily and soon enough the house is spotless and dinner time is upon them.

Although rick doubts that Daryl will decide to show up that night, he and Shane both agree that the latter should leave before evening sets in just in case. The scarf down a hasty meal of spaghetti and garlic bread. Then Shane kisses him goodnight, chastely, but winks and grabs his ass on the way out the door. Rick can only laugh fondly and wish him a safe drive home.

Now alone, Rick retreats to his bedroom, settles himself on the rug in front of the bed, and pulls out his journal. He attempts to write, but nothing comes to him. Michonne has been coaching him on how to compartmentalize a situation, to break it down into what is logical, what is emotional, and how to find the realities that lay between. He is far from a master of the method, however, and instead of achieving some sort of breakthrough like he’d hoped, he ends up staring at the same blank page for forty-five minutes, feeling like an idiot.

Disappointed, he closes the journal and stuffs it back into the drawer of his bedside table. Hauling himself up off the floor, he approaches his closes and digs out his running clothes, which haven’t seen the light of day in far too long. Shrugging into them, he mentally prepares himself for an evening jog. He knows a full circuit around the neighborhood amounts to about four miles, so he endeavors to do at least half of that. It’s surely going to have him wheezing and gasping by the end, but a run is the healthiest distraction he can think of at the moment.

The run is fairly uneventful. A few folks are out, walking their dogs or relaxing on their front porches. They wave and Rick waves back. By the time he completes his run and gets back to his own house his stomach is cramping and he’s sorely regretting all the garlic bread he had eaten at dinner. Clambering up the front steps is a struggle. He barely manages to shove the front door shut behind him before collapsing in an unsightly sprawl in the entryway.

From where he’s lying, he can just barely see into the kitchen, where a little blinking red light snags his attention. It’s the answering machine, which is unusual. He and Daryl hardly ever give out their home number, and the telemarketers usually hung up two seconds into the voicemail recording. Rick gets to his feet and moves to the machine to press play.

“Rick?” Daryl’s voice crackles through the speaker, “Uh. Hi. Ya didn’t answer your phone so...dunno if you’re busy or, or if you don’t wanna talk to me. I get it. Just, uh, call me back when you get this. If you want.”

The machine clicks off, signalling the end of the message. Rick curses, pulls out his phone and sure enough, there’s a missed call from his boyfriend. He must not have felt the phone buzzing in his pocket during his run. As fast as he can, he calls Daryl back. The phone barely makes it all the way through the first ring before Daryl picks up.

“Rick?”

He smiles, happy to hear the other man’s voice, “Hey, baby. Hi. I’m sorry I missed your call, it wasn’t on purpose.”

“S’okay. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, I was just out for a run.”

There a long period of silence, in which Rick senses some judgement.

“Out for a what?”

“A run,” Rick responds defensively, “I run.”

“Since when?”

“Since...hush. I USED to run, anyway. Figured it’s about time I start up again.”

Daryl hums noncommittally, but doesn’t say anything.

“How was your day?” Rick asks awkwardly.

“S’alright,” is the mumbled reply. Rick guesses that the boy is biting at his thumb again. “I, uh, I been checking out that place down by the lake. You know?"

“Yeah? Any good game?”

“Naw. Just a bunch of little critters. Rabbits, mostly.”

Rick hates how stilted the conversation feels. Daryl hasn’t been this tight-lipped with him since the early days of their relationship when he’d still ben wary of Rick’s true intentions and unsure of himself.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck tomorrow,” he offers.

“Maybe. Could try and bring home some pheasant for dinner. If you want. Season’s still open on ‘em.”

“That’d be nice. We could do that wild rice stew you like. And I made that strawberry dessert for you, too."

“Yeah? So...so it’s still okay if, uh, if I come back?”

“Daryl, sweetheart. Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be, baby?”

“Dunno, I...dunno,” Daryl stumbles. Rick’s heart aches. “M’gonna go, Rick. I’ll be home tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah, baby. I can’t wait to see you. I love you, Daryl” Rick tries to push all his love, all his emotion into his voice and prays Daryl can feel it despite the distance between them.

“Love you, too. Bye, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'll be damned. I actually wrote a worthy amount of stuff.  
> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, because I totally need another fic to start when I've already got so many unfinished ones lying around. I can't help it. These men love to play around in my head. I hope you all enjoy it, please let me know what you think. Also, it's completely unbeta'd so it's rough, messy, not completely linear, and probably full of mistakes.


End file.
